Two weeks seem like a long time, but when it comes to a fun and relaxing adventure in Crete, time flies by pretty darn quickly. And then again.
In other words, we made it back safe and sound.
The fine village called Matala where we stayed hadn't changed much in the twenty years since Thea and I went there on our first romantic journey way back in the good old days.
Except that this time around we had four wild-and-crazy kids keeping us occupied and entertained.
Quite an adventure you could say.
Ah, Matala - one of those great places where you can watch the sun set over the sea. In the sixties, (I hear - I wasn't there, though a friend was.) American hippies lived in the caves and smoked Opium.
My own sort of epiphany happened at Malia, one of the palaces of the Minoans on the northern coast of Crete, between Heraklion and Aghios Nikolaos. Much less of the palace is left than of the palace at Phaestos, or certainly that of Knossos. But there, I swear I saw myself as a young girl who must have died there when the tidal wave hit after Thera blew up.
Or maybe I just inhaled a bit of leftover hippie Opium when I was at Matala...